


Heated Disagreement

by Nary



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Footnotes, Humor, Infidelity, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do werewolves go into heat?  <i>Oh bugger</i>, thought Vimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heated Disagreement

The search went poorly. Angua caught the culprit's scent, but had difficulty tracking it. She was distracted, snappish, and inclined to mark her territory more openly than usual (Vimes politely averted his eyes). Finally, frustrated, they left Carrot to continue the hunt, and went back to the Yard.

As she changed, Vimes paced. When he heard the door open, he snarled "What happened out there?" Except what he actually said as he turned was "What happened OH." Angua stood there in the nuddy, and Vimes, having very few places to look that weren't a) curvy, b) pink, c) blonde, or d) all of the above, settled for staring at the ceiling. There was a water-spot in one corner, he noticed, before she manhandled him into his office and slammed the door.

"Everything all right, Angua?" he asked as she shoved him against a wall. She shook her head, then casually ripped open his shirt. A panicked thought crossed his mind: Do werewolves go into heat?1 She nuzzled his neck in a most distracting way. _Oh bugger_ , thought Vimes.

"I'll, uh, get Carrot." He tried unsuccessfully to squeeze out of her embrace.

"No, it'd take too long," she said, her voice husky. "Besides," she added, giving him what he hoped was a playful nip to the ear, "you're the alpha male." Then she smiled in a way that made his stomach sink. Vimes wished Vetinari were here to outrank him.

Then he didn't have time for sardonic thoughts. Angua shoved her hand down his trousers, popping off two buttons, and began to stroke him in a way that made his jaw go slack. With a sweep of her other arm, she cleared several years' worth of filing2 from Vimes' desk. After a kiss that left him breathless, she bent herself over the now unusually clean desk, giving him a clear view of her pinkest and most swollen parts. "Hurry up," she growled.

"Angua," he stammered, "I can't do this!"

"Yes, you can!" She sounded close to the breaking point, the sort that might end with a man's guts on the floor.

 _Sybil will understand,_ Vimes thought desperately. _Surely she'd rather have me disloyal than disemboweled. Of course, when she finds out, she'll be inclined do the disembowling herself…_ He took a step toward Angua, hampered by the trousers around his knees, and half-fell, half-thrust his way into her.

She pushed back against him with a groan located at the corner of anguish and satisfaction. The sound woke the Beast that Vimes always struggled to contain. It didn't break free, but it took a look about and decided it approved wholeheartedly. Vimes slammed into her again, gripping her hips with white-knuckled hands. Angua's nails gouged the desk, and she whimpered, clenching so tight around him that he thought he might be trapped inside her forever.

After a while, Vimes realized he was trying to make it last longer. _Get it over with_ , you fool, he told himself, and unloaded into her with a final burst of energy. He thought she might have howled, but his mind was elsewhere.

He straightened and carefully picked his way through the debris on the floor. Calmly, he pulled a cigar out of his desk and lit it. Angua lay still, panting, until the knock at the door.

"Sir?" said Carrot from the other side. Angua's ears pricked. "I tracked him as far as I could, but…OH." This last was as Angua opened the door and pounced on him. Holding his trousers up with one hand and his cigar in the other, Vimes kicked the door shut and ignored the sounds coming from the other side. Just as well Sgt. Colon hadn't been the one to knock. Vimes didn't think Fred would have been able to take it.

1 Werewolf mating customs remain poorly understood, except of course by werewolves themselves. The foremost scholar of the subject, Gebhart Pfeffernutt, also rapidly became the foremost scholar of 'what my own intestines look like'.

2 Two teetering piles that were designated, in Samuel Vimes' mental organizational scheme, "urgent," three stacks of "ignore unless something else happens," and one heap of "no bloody clue." Also a chipped mug with semi-sentient slime at the bottom and a fossilized spider plant.


End file.
